


Stop your foolin'!

by Metas



Series: T'aint nobody's business if I do [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Asexual Character, Can be seen as slight Alastor x Angel Dust, Cooking, Gen, Mentions of Murder, One Shot, Song Lyrics, Songfic, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 09:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metas/pseuds/Metas
Summary: It's not an everyday occurrence, but when he feels the whim, Alastor likes to cook
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: T'aint nobody's business if I do [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542289
Comments: 11
Kudos: 244





	Stop your foolin'!

It's not an everyday occurrence,but when he feels the whim, Alastor likes to cook something that hearkens him back to simpler, debatably less entertaining, but certainly happier times. A bygone lifetime when he was just a boy full of life helping his mother as she bustled around their small kitchen, laughing and swaying together to whatever tune she would be humming, a song that often they didn't know all the words to. He supposes if asked, the joy of music and cooking were some of the only virtues he managed to retain from those faded halcyon days. Even then, with time, those virtues turned into sin as cries of agony became a song and human flesh became as delectable as the most succulent cut of pork.

Still no matter the song or ingredient the joy remains just as pure as ever, even when the actions weren't.

The sharp smell of Louisiana spices and cooking meats saturate the hot air of the kitchen while He busies himself at a large pot with a wooden spoon, Jacket hanging near the kitchen doorway on an apron rack, his dress shirt's sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. The moment would seem normal to look at if not for the small antlers protruding from his head, Eyes, from iris to sclera, blood red to match his unnaturally red hair and a smile so sharp it would make a shark jealous.

_"...I can stand a bit of lovin', oh so bad!"_

Over the sound of sizzling and clang of spoon on pot, a song gently drifts through the air, distorted almost like it was coming from a busted radio but it wasn't him that was singing.

No, he never enjoyed singing as much as he did listening to the music being sung, never as much as he enjoyed his mother singing to him. 

_"I feel so funny, I feel so sad." _

Ever since he'd come to hell his powers had manifested in many ways, some of them useful, allowing him to climb to the near top of hell's food chain and others seemingly useless.

Powers that seemed just to be for show, such as this particular ability to produce radio sounds and, interestingly enough, music from his being.The irony wasn't lost on him that he had manifested this power when he first appeared in hell nor that people started calling him the Radio Demon.Though, as the years in hell went by he found this one particular seemingly useless ability to be the one he was entertained by the most.

_"I need a lil' steam-heat fo' my flo', Maybe I can fix things up, so they'll go." _

He pulls a pinch of salt and a heaping amount of pepper, adding it to the Jambalaya bubbling away in the pot and some "chicken" stock giving it a good stir, letting flavors meet and marry some like he was taught. He grabs a spoon and scoops some up to taste, finding it absolutely perfect, and proceeds to stir again, his body swaying to the gentle beat.

_"Whatsamatta hard papa? Come on an save yo' momma's soul  
Cuz' I need some sugar in ma' bowl, doggone it, I need some sugar in ma' bowl" _

The line comes and goes, but his hand doesn't even twitch from its current purpose, nor do any of his muscles tense involuntarily like they normally would. It tickles him inside at the thought of it, not because he doesn't find the lines vulgar, but because he's so enraptured by the slow roll of the music, he cant help to do anything but continue his task and sway in place gently to the song with a subdued almost real smile, appreciating the pleasures of both the smells of his efforts, the heat and the music.

However just because he doesn't react doesn't mean he's so lax that he isn't immediately aware someone has come down the corridor leading to the kitchen, nor that the person has chosen silently to enter the kitchen approximately 40 seconds ago, he continues to sway his hips side to side.

_"I need a lil' sugar in ma' bowl, I need a lil' hot dog between ma' rolls  
You gettin' differin', I've been tol' "_

The spoon leaves the inside of the pot, tapping on the rim to remove any excess liquid or food particle, almost innocently, while Alastor kills the heat with the other hand. He stops swaying and for the first time since he had begun to cook Alastor speaks, in turn causing the hand reaching for his rear to pause. 

"Angel" 

_"Move yo' finga', drop somthin' in ma' bowl"_

"If you dont retrieve that appendage I'd be more than happy to add it to the pot" 

There's a moment of calm, only a beat when suddenly the spoon and the hand holding it almost blur, swinging around Alastor's body, smacking the offending hand that had begun to move once more towards his rear, followed by a loud yelp of pain and a curse. The unfortunate attached sinner pulls back, shocked by both the movement and strike, stumbling to the kitchen floor, injured hand clutched by three others. Alastor turns fully shaking the spoon at him like he's wagging a finger at a naughty child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, giving Angel an unimpressed smile while the spider waves the pain off before leveling a dirty grin back at him. 

"C'mon, Al! I could smell it all the way from the front end and thought I'd pop in for a 'snack'" 

_"I need a lil' steam-heat fo' my flo', Maybe I can fix things up, so they'll go._

Alastor doesn't feel the familiar flash of blinding almost psychotic anger he would normally feel at the mere thought someone had the audacity to attempt to cop a feel of his person.

No, all he feels is exasperation and another thing he wont bother to to try and decipher, He wants to pretend it's resignation that he's become accustomed to the antics of these people who live in an run the hotel.  
Still there are things he wont let slide that easily. 

"I'll remind you of the 'five foot rule' being a 'rule' for a reason" 

_"Get off yo' knees, I can't see what you're drivin' at it's dark down there looks like a snake!"_

"Cuz you're afraid you might like it" 

Alastor's teeth disappear beneath his lips into a thin smile, eyes narrowed while Angel Dust's grin gets slightly wider seeing the visible reaction to his goading. 

"It applies to you specifically, So you don't end up an unfortunate 'snack'" 

_"C'mon here and drop somethin' here in my bowl"_

He meant it to come off as a threat but Angel simply bites his lip and wags his eyebrows at the Radio Demon and if Angel were anyone else he'd doubt he would exercise this much patience. Alastor considers the thought deeply; He could kill him, add him to the pot and no one would be the wiser for a couple days, no one would be able to stop him even if they knew. 

He simply turns towards the pot, smile locked firmly in place, grabbing a bowl and filling it with Jambalaya and a spoon. 

_"Stop your foolin' and drop somethin' in my bowl!" _

Alastor walks over to Angel unceremoniously dropping the bowl into the spider's lap, high enough that it would scare the spider into action, but not high enough that it would make much of a mess. He'd cooked it, damn it all if he's going to waste his efforts. 

"Your 'Snack', if you will excuse me, I will go and notify everyone that dinner is ready." 

Alastor grabs his jacket on the way out as Angel calls at his back, greedy mouth already full of the food he was given. 

"Hey Al! Wait a sec! What was that song? It's pretty saucy!" 

He wishes the kick in the food was strong enough to knock out the ex-porn star who is assuredly giving him eyes at his back. 

No, it's not an everyday occurrence but when Alastor feels it, he'll make a recipe of his mothers' and play a song he fancies , though these days he's considering eating other demons again, at least when he eats other demons he's never been questioned about his music choices. 

**Author's Note:**

> Song: I need a little sugar in my bowl  
Singer: Bessie Smith


End file.
